


I'm watching your back

by MurdockSchmurdock



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Dancing, Dinner, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Nervous Peter Parker, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Not JGCU (Jake Gyllenhaal Cinematic Universe) compliant, Peter is a Little Shit, Precious Peter Parker, Supportive May Parker (Spider-Man), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man), cupid shuffle, how do I tag??, i really tried to make this a oneshot...i really did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2020-07-08 02:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19862299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurdockSchmurdock/pseuds/MurdockSchmurdock
Summary: Before Ben died, he and May would take Peter for ice cream, or dinner, or whatever he wanted as a little celebration.Since then, they haven't exactly had the funds for that kinda thing.But Tony Stark notices things, and darn it, he's proud of the kid, so he's gotta reward him somehow, right?Even if that somehow is riding around in a fancy sports car, or eating somewhere that isn't exactly what he had in mind, and embracing the chaos that seems to follow them just about everywhere.





	1. It's Britney, Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> *Gasp!* a title that isn't a pun? or is it? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> This was really supposed to be like 2,000 words whoops  
> The first chapter is fairly short, but I'm gonna try and keep it at two, so expect for basically a massive word dump tomorrow lmao  
> enjoy!

“So you’re sure you can’t come?”

May smiled reassuringly at her nephew, who was tugging anxiously on the hem of his sweatshirt. 

“I told you, baby, I promised Alicia I’d take this shift weeks ago,” Peter sighed dramatically, and she tossed a couch cushion at his head. He didn’t catch it.

“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to work for another hour!” He retorted, scooping up the pillow and throwing it back onto the couch, careful not to hit May as she sipped her tea, “You could come for a little bit.” Peter whined, knowing exactly how childish he sounded at the moment, but not particularly caring. May set her mug on the side table, reaching to pull the TV remote from under the returned pillow.

“I could, but I think we both know I’d rather not be driving all over the city right before my shift when I could stay in and watch a sappy comedy and drink some sweet tea,” she mused, “plus, I know you’ll save me some leftovers, so I’m really not missing out at all.” Peter sighed again, less dramatically this time, and flopped down onto the couch beside her. May draped her free arm around his back, pulling him into her side. As soon as his head touched her shoulder, he relaxed entirely, snatching the cold mug from the side table and taking a quick sip.

“I know, and I will, it’s just you do so much, and it feels like you never catch a break.” He huffed, looking dejectedly at the ice cubes swirling in the glass. 

“Don’t worry about me, Peter,” May laughed, grabbing the cup back before he could spill the liquid over the rim, “I got my Peter-time today, and we have all of tomorrow to hang out too.” He rolled his eyes at the phrase, finally ceasing the torture on his jacket strings.

“Alright. I still feel kinda bad though.” He admitted, stretching his legs out and dropping his bare feet on the coffee table.

“You shouldn’t though, Tony’s doing this dinner for you,” May said, moving her hand up to run carefully through Peter’s gelled hair, “And you’re excited about it, which I know because you’ve been talking about it nonstop for the last two days.” He swatted away the offending limb and smoothed his hair back down with a nasty look at his giggling aunt. 

“Sorrr-y,” He groaned, drawing out the syllables, “It’s just the first time he’s taken me out where I’ve been able to talk him down from some five-star steakhouse.” He shuddered at the memory of last time. Who new suit jackets were so itchy and horrible? May laughed at the disgruntled look on his face.

“Oh, how horrible it is to be spoiled by a literal billionaire.” She teased. This seemed to strike a chord, as he fell forward, shoving his face between his knees, and let out a half yell. How the hell he was able to do that with his legs still propped up on the table, May had no idea. 

“That horrible, huh?” Peter swung upwards as easily as he went down, facing her with a hopeless expression.

“It is! Like, I lo- he’s great, but he tried to get me to agree to an overnight trip to Hong Kong, for a report card!” He moaned, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“A straight A report card,” She responded, “and you helped win state for Decathlon this season.” Peter was spiralling, gently at least, and May knew exactly how to deal with it. It was like pulling weeds. Really stubborn, really emotional, really teenage weeds. Just dig little by little to get to the bottom of the whole thing.

“A’s aren’t that big of a deal, aunt May, I’ve been getting those forever,” he fretted, moving from waving his hands in the air to messing with the manhandled couch cushion, “plus, we haven’t done anything about that kinda stuff since- since Ben, so why now?” Ah, the root. Peter returned to picking at the hem of his sweatshirt, looking very small for someone who was apparently able to bench press a bus.

Now it was May’s turn to sigh, and she pulled him just a little bit closer. The topic of Ben was undoubtedly a sore spot for the both of them, and this was probably one of the rawer areas to begin with. For those blissful six years where everything was as perfect as it could be for their little broken family, Ben would treat Peter to a healthy four-scoop cone of ice cream after every report card. No matter what. They could never finish it, of course, but they always brought the remaining half melted scoop or so back home to May.

After Ben was killed, money got tighter and tighter, May worked longer and longer, add the whole Spider-Metabolism thing to it, and they simply didn’t have enough time or funds to really spend any of it on something like that. She always made sure to hang the grade sheet on the fridge, and praise Peter endlessly for all his hard work, but cutting off the tradition no matter the circumstances made her feel like a terrible aunt. 

Now, with Tony helping them out here and there, she was perfectly content letting him dote on the kid for his good work. But all things considered, she could see how it would be a bit tougher for him to just accept that.

“Baby, I get it, I really do, but it’s alright to let yourself enjoy things,” She soothed, he made no protest as she returned to carding her fingers through his barely tamed curls, “Even if they were tradition once, even-even if the people you shared that tradition with are gone, you can still make new ones. Or even keep them alive with new people, “ she planted a light kiss to the crown of his head, “Ben would want you to.” 

At this, Peter lifted his head, letting out a sniff before wrapping his arms around his aunt.

“Y-yeah, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to let him spoil me a little bit. He said with a wet chuckle.

“Lord knows he can afford it,” May replied, returning the laugh, “and you deserve it.” She hugged him for just a moment longer, before sparing a glance at the wall clock that was either fifteen minutes behind or fifteen minutes ahead, depending on the weather. She exhaled, pulling away from her nephew. 

“Speaking of which, he should be here any minute, so you should probably actually get ready.” May said, holding back a giggle at the panicked look on Peter’s face. He jumped over the back of the couch, darting back to his room and quite loudly rifling around for his shoes. He ran back out, hopping on one foot as he tried to shove one on without untying it. To solve the problem, he pressed his back against one side of the hall, and his other bare foot against the other, effectively leaving him floating in the middle of the hall as he forced his foot into the sneaker. May nearly choked on her tea when she turned back around, it’d been over a year and she still wasn’t used to all his weird spidery powers.

Jumping down, he slipped the other converse on with significantly more ease, planting a quick kiss on May’s cheek on his way into the kitchen, where he grabbed his phone just as it lit up with a notification.

“Oh, he’s here!” he shouted over the kitchen counter, and a short series of honks sounded from outside, “Bye May! Larb you!” 

“Wait!” May shouted back, leaning to grab his keys from the coffee table and tossing them towards him, which he caught.

“Larb you too Peter!” She called after him as he swung the door open and disappeared into the hallway with a wave. The door closed with a click, and May sunk back down into the couch. Gosh, she loved that boy, but did she need some peace and quiet. One click of the remote, and she was awash in the sound of a bad 90’s romcom. Hopefully Peter wouldn’t get into too much trouble while he was gone.

Peter ran past the elevator, instead bounding down the stairs of the apartment complex, skipping whole flights at a time. His conversation with May had eased his nervousness and renewed his enthusiasm, and he was as anxious to get outside as he was when Mister Stark first asked if he wanted to do anything to celebrate his report card. It took him barely a minute to race from the fourth floor to ground level, throwing open the final door and out onto the small walkway to the street. 

There, parked by the sidewalk, looking very out of place among the other far plainer cars, was a cherry red Ferrari. As Peter jogged up to it, a huge smile growing on his face, the window rolled down to reveal a very nonchalant looking Tony Stark. He stopped just outside the door, leaning in to practically shout a greeting at the man, earning him an eye roll.

“What are you doing standing there kid, just get in already.” Tony snarked, though Peter could see the grin the man was desperately trying to hide. The second he closed the door, Peter was firing off questions about the car.

“Whoaa, Mister Stark this is so cool! What year is it? What’s it’s top speed? Did you build it? Wait, why haven’t I seen it before?” Tony looked over at him with a mix of exasperation and fondness, before turning the key in the ignition and revving the engine a few times, much to the boy’s delight.

“Well, it’s a Ferrari 488 Spider, 2016, I think, pretty sure top speed is around 205 miles per hour, I actually didn’t build this one, and if I’m being honest with ya, I kinda forgot I had it,” He replied, before whacking Peter on the shoulder, “Now buckle up! I have no intention of dying via your aunt if she found out I didn’t make you wear a seat belt.” Peter quickly nodded his head, and the second the buckle clicked into place, Tony revved the car to life and they were speeding off, probably way above what the speed limit actually called for.

Peter was, of course, still enthralled with the car. 

“So it’s a Spider?” He asked, running his hand over the expensive-looking leather seats.

“Yup,” Tony chuckled, managing to bring the sports car to a gentle stop at a red light, “Like I said, I completely forgot that I had it. I was walking through the garage trying to find one for tonight, stumbled across it, and figured you’d love it. Also, because of the whole Spider thing.” Peter voiced his vehement agreement before noticing a particularly interesting button.

“Mister Stark?” Peter chirped, pointing at the tab without getting close enough that the man would think he was trying to push it, “what, uh, what does that do?” 

“Well, I didn’t honestly want to tell you this, but that’s the roof button,” He explained, “ This baby’s a honest-to-God convertible.” At this, Peter gaped, and Tony sighed.

“What! That’s awesome!” Peter burst, turning to look at the older man with begging eyes.

“No, Peter.” Tony spoke before the teen could even get a word out.

“Please? I’ve never been in an actual convertible before and they’re just  _ so cool! _ ” Peter pleaded.

“Sorry kid, no can do.” Tony responded. Peter wasn’t quite ready to give up.

“Why not? Aren’t we celebrating?” he grinned devilishly.

“Because, Pete, with the top down, we’re exposed, people could take pictures, or worse.” Stark shuddered inwardly at the thought. Hopefully Peter would just let it go, he couldn’t honestly hold him off for too long. But the kid seemed to have a response ready almost immediately.

“But you’ll be driving too fast for them to get any good ones anyway, right?” 

"We’ll literally be there in like five minutes.”

“Perfect! Less time for nasty people to get pictures of us.” 

Tony had to admit, the kid was good. Grumbling something about ‘teenagers’ and ‘not having a healthy fear of authority’ he reached over and pressed the button. The roof of the car drew back, allowing the noise of the city and rushing wind to carry away Peter’s whoops of joy. It was contagious, really, and Tony found himself turning up the radio, grinning as the boy beside him sang along with every rock song, even joining in on a few himself. 


	2. What time is it? Time for you to get a watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony get some grub, engage in some chit-chat, and-surprise! Tony did more than he said he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied, this isn't just gonna be a huge dump of the rest of the story because I didn't end up finishing it :)))  
> It is almost done though, but I may not be able to post tomorrow since I have work pretty much all day  
> Enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments!!

The trip itself was all too short, even with Tony taking an extra lap or two around the block at Peter’s insistence. When they finally pulled up along the curb, it was exactly six, not five thirty as planned, and Peter’s perfectly groomed hair was curly and windswept as you can get. He didn’t seem to mind however, and was bouncing out of the car and onto the sidewalk before Tony had even shut the roof.

“Come on Mister Stark! We’re gonna miss the band!” He shouted, practically shaking with excitement by the doors.

“Chill out, kid, I’m making sure my uber-expensive car doesn’t get stolen.”He retorted, knowing full well that even if someone managed to make it in, the installed FRIDAY would make their life hell. With a click of his keys, the roof slid back into place, and the lights flashed. Perfect.

He strode up to the glass double doors and pushed them open, ushering the excitable kid inside before taking one more precautionary glance over his shoulder. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he turned and followed Peter into the restaurant. 

Not very far, as he almost immediately ran into the kid, who was staring star struck at the space. It was large, and fairly open, the most notable aspects the small stage with a live band and a classy-looking bar. He had to admit, though it wasn’t the fanciest place ever, the exposed brick, wood detailing and slow swing music permeating the room made it feel rather timeless. 

The server standing by the server-stand-thing looked up, and for the briefest moment seemed surprised that the man that called earlier to reserve a table claiming to be Tony Stark actually was Tony Stark. To her credit, she recovered quickly, and after a quick greeting led them to their table.

A booth in the back corner, where Tony could sit and face the door, and Peter was out of the line of sight. Just how he liked it. Also per his request, the booths and tables immediate to them were empty, and only a few people littered the small dance floor. Not that he could do much about that.

As soon as they were seated, Peter was scanning through the menu. He was starving, and not having a triple digit entree sounded pretty good to him. His mentor was taking things a bit slower, quickly ordering a few drinks and some garlic bread for the table.

“Hey, Pete, while you were drooling on the menu, I went ahead and ordered you a root beer, that fine?” He asked, holding back a laugh as Peter peeked over the top of the menu.

“With the bottle?” He asked hopefully. Tony nodded.

“Of course, I could never forget.” which, oddly enough, was true. He always made sure to have sodas in the Tower now, especially the authentic, glass-bottled root beer, which the kid claimed was ‘the best and only way to consume it’. Probably because he wanted to pretend it was real beer. Hell, one time he bought him a ‘custom’ name plastic coke bottle that said ‘Spider-Man’ on it and the kid still hadn’t thrown it away.

Peter was absolutely engrossed in the menu, he didn’t honestly know there could be so many foods in one restaurant. Even that super fancy steak house only really had, well, steak, and a few salad options. He pored over every option, trying to find something familiar enough to be good, but also new enough that the experience isn’t wasted.

“Hey, Mister Stark?” He piped, looking over to see the man lower his own menu and nod expectantly “Do you think the rib eye looks any good?” 

“I think,” Tony responded, cocking an eyebrow, “that if you wanted steak, we should have gone to Mason’s.” Peter wrinkles his nose at the suggestion, vehemently shaking his head.

“Nuh-uh, no way.” 

“Oh really? What’s so wrong with the five star restaurant with perfect food ratings?” Tony retorted. Peter frowned, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks.

“N-nothings wrong with it, I just… didn’t really… like it.” He muttered, suddenly feeling very awkward. Tony’s expectant look urged him to continue.

“Like, uh, it was just so fancy, and expensive, and I felt really out of place and also my suit was super scratchy!” He blurted, all at once. His mentor, surprisingly, didn’t laugh, or tease him, he just nodded his head and scratched his chin knowingly.

“I get it, I get it,” He grinned, “but I’m still a literal billionaire, so go off I guess.” His protege groaned at the use of the term, much to his delight.

“Please don’t, Mister Stark.”

“What, I said it right, didn’t I.”

“Well, yeah, but it's just ugh!” Tony chuckled at Peter’s misery.

“Alright, well, what’s so great about this place?” He remarked, immediately backtracking at the crestfallen look Peter gave him,”As in, what made you pick it? It’s fairly nice, seems cool.”

“I just, swung past it a few times on patrol, and the music sounded super cool, so I figured…” He trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t exactly lying, Mister Stark just didn’t need to know that May had also pointed it out a while ago, and they just simply could not afford it or find the time to go. Tony at least didn’t pry, though his face indicated he knew something else was up.

“Okay, you about ready to order?” He asked, the teen scrunching up his face indecisively before nodding, “Great! Want to bring something home for May?”

That was apparently the right thing to say, as Peter’s face immediately lit up. 

“Yeah!”

Tony waved the server over, ordering an All-American burger for himself, a chicken Marsala for the kid, pasta salad to bring home for May, and half the appetizers on the menu. Peter protested this, but Tony insisted that ‘growing Spider-boys needed more than just a little chicken’. 

They carried on in easy conversation, topics jumping from how Peter was doing in school, to the new Accords, to whatever the hell was up with Jake Gyllenhaal these days (I'm telling you, Mister Stark! Dude's totally an alien!). Peter was just getting into reciting President Thomas J Whitmore’s speech from the classic  _ Independence day _ when the server, or rather servers, interrupted, carrying a couple different trays. One held the entrees, the other drinks, and two more just for all the sides.

Peter blanched at the sheer amount of food, and Tony noticed his sudden lack of chatter.

“Seriously, kid, it’s fine, billionaire, remember?” He chuckled, passing Peter the root beer.

“Oh, what, no, it’s not that,” Peter replied, pulling the sealed cap off as easily as you would a piece of paper, “it’s just so much!” He lowered his voice and looked around nervously.

“What if someone, y’know, saw me eating it all, and saw you, and like,” Peter moved his fingers in a rolling motion,”connected the dots?” Tony shot the kid what he hoped was a soothing smile, nudging his foot with his own.

“Don’t sweat it Underoos, they already know we’re bringing some stuff home for another person, we’ll just bag some of it up and you can have it later.” That set the kid at ease, and soon, they were digging into their food.

At first, Tony had to tell Peter to slow down, he was just shoveling the food into his mouth without pause. Pretty soon though, he let up off the gas and started to actually enjoy it, and they settled back into their rhythm of cracking jokes and chatting aimlessly.

He was only about halfway through his burger when he deemed himself finished, and started packing up the leftovers and remaining sides in to-go boxes, to Peter’s dismay. The promise of dessert quickly sated him, however. But first, something a bit more serious.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony called, tearing the kid’s attention away from the band, “there’s a little something I wanted to talk to you about.” 

“What do you mean?” He responded, interest peaked, “am I in trouble? Is this about Spider-Man?” The man quickly shook his head.

“No, no, none of that. You know why I got you dinner tonight, right?” Peter nodded.

“My report card, right? And Decathlon?”

“Yeah, and I know you think that it’s no big deal or whatever self-deprecating bull you’re currently telling yourself, but considering everything you juggle, it’s quite a feat,” Tony fidgeted with the small case he pulled out of his jacket, mulling over what he would say next,” And, thing is, Howa-my father, basically didn’t care about any of that, and not to be presumptuous or anything, but I’m trying to break the cycle.” He took a deep breath in, and exhaled slowly.

“What I guess I’m trying to say, is I’m proud of you, and I want you to have this.”

He passed the black box to Peter, who turned it over in his hands reverently.

“And before you say anything, I made it, I didn’t buy it, so you have to take it.”

Peter wordlessly opened the case, letting out a tiny gasp as he stared wide-eyed at the contents. He pulled the elegant watch from the box, running his thumb over the deep metallic blue face. As he studied it in the light, a dark red spider insignia, barely distinguishable from the surrounding material glinted. The band, similar in color to the watch face, was made out of some kind of odd metal, it flexed like fabric, but a simple tap confirmed that it was solid. His head shot up, and his mentor chuckled nervously at his dumbfounded expression.

“Well kid? Do you like it or should I have gone with something a bit more low-key?” Tony quipped, desperately hoping the kid couldn’t see exactly how nervous he was about him liking it.

“No, no, Mister Stark, it’s just- I mean,” Peter gasped, floundering for the right words,”It’s  _ perfect.” _

Tony could see the kid’s big eyes shine with some indecipherable emotion, before he quickly turned away, busying himself with fastening the watch on his wrist.

“Anything for you, bud.” He said, and quite frankly, it scared him a little, okay, a lot,  _ fine,  _ it  _ absolutely terrified  _ him that he meant it. Tony would do anything, whether that be take a bullet ten times over or re-watch that one freaking Alien movie the kid loved so much. He broke himself out of his thoughts at Peter’s excited gasp as the watch band slipped over his hand and automatically fitted to his wrist.

“Whoa, what even is this stuff?” he breathed, tugging experimentally. Tony relaxed, evidently the mushy-gushy stuff was over with.

“A little gift from Prince Kitty,” he said, rolling his eyes at Peter’s confused look,”King T’Challa sent some Vibranium over, the pure stuff and some woven materials. He figured I’d make good use of it, and daresay I did.” 

“No way!” Peter all but shouted, bringing the watch as close to his face as he could without going cross-eyed.

“Yes way. Tap the spider twice.” Peter quickly pressed the red symbol and the metal face lit up with a display, much to his delight.

“Don’t do this right now, but if you press that,” Tony gestured to an inconspicuous button alongside the others on the screen, “It’ll scan your bio-metrics and enable Spidey-mode. It’s got Karen and stuff already on there, but we can put her on the regular version as well. We can go over everything else later, too.” 

Peter was swiping through the options, grinning when he noticed his mentor had already uploaded his contacts, including himself, and laughing just a bit when he saw a special watch-edition Minecraft. Looking up to thank the man, again, he noticed Tony’s watch, which was almost identical, apart from being black with red and gold. Peter held his arm out across the table, where it was almost touching Tony’s.

“I guess we match now, huh Mister Stark?” He bubbled, earning an amused look.

“Sure do, Underoos. They’ve got pretty much all of the same features as well.”

“So, like even the,” Peter mimes pulling something over his hand,” the gauntlet thingy?” Tony nods, and quickly points an accusatory finger at him.

“Yes, and web shooters, but even though they aren’t loaded don’t even think about trying any self-defense functions until we’ve gone over everything together.” He warns, which Peter responds with a salute and enthusiastic ‘Yes sir!’.

For a few minutes they sit there, Tony responding to a text from Pepper as he waits for the check, and Peter happily bouncing along with the music in his seat, still figuring out the Minecraft controls on the watch. The song ends, and the band packs up a few of the instruments, wandering off the stage to the claps and a few cheers from the restaurant patrons. Peter sags a little, the music was nice, it was far too quiet without it. Well, all good things come to an end or whatever, right?

Wrong. Before he knows it, another small group of people are walking up the short set of steps, a few picking up the remaining instruments, others procuring new ones from bags or cases. Is that a bass guitar? It seems the gentle swing music was more for the day crowd, and now, with the neon signs and headlights illuminating the streets more than the sun, it was time to step it up.

The hipster lamps spaced through the room dimmed, the only bright area the stage and dance floor, now lit in varying hues of yellow and blue. The bassist stepped forwards, adjusting some dials on a small floor setup, and began to pick out a low, familiar beat.

_ Dun, dadundun dundun dun _

_ Dun, dadundun dundun dun _

The dance-floor crowd let out scattered whoops, and Peter found himself longing to join them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly getting out of hand, it went in a completely different direction than when I first started writing it smh  
> I have one other short(ish) half done fic to finish after this one, and then I'll be taking a hiatus from actually writing, except maybe some (sporadic) actual updates to Peter's Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day.  
> the reason being, DragonCon is coming up, and between work and this, I have had zero time to actually work on my costumes apart from ordering materials and brainstorming. I'm a procrastinator at heart, but rushing two weeks out from the convention will just screw me over so this is really the best course of action.   
> So, Tl;dr, expect maybe 3-5 more days of posted updates, and then basically nothing for a week or two. maybe longer. I'll post a reminder right before I yeet, but for now, that's it.  
> come talk to me on instagram, @murdock_schmurdock, I'm always happy to chat!!


	3. To the Left, To the Left, To the Left, To the Le-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Spider-bite helped more than just Peter's combat skills, and something may or may not go horribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how to write dancing, so uhh sorry about this  
> basically just based off this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voUOGwWlA7g

Tony looked up from his StarkPhone as the lights suddenly dimmed, looking around in alarm, before relaxing when no immediate threats were spotted. Then, a tune he was very familiar with began to thrum through the speakers, and he was face to face with a very animated teenager.

“Can we go dance, Mister Stark?” He asked, eyes somehow even brighter in the greenish glow of the lights. Tony set down his phone, sighing and rubbing his temples.

“I don’t think so, kid, I think it’d be a bad idea to draw attention to ourselves like that.” Peter slumped in his seat, looking at his mentor with pleading eyes.

“Please? It doesn’t have to be for long?”

“It’s only, like, 8:00 and White Stripes isn’t even a dancing band.” He grumbled, but he was already sliding out of the booth. Peter tumbled out as well, tugging on his arm and basically skipping alongside him to the floor.

_ I’m gonna fight em off _

_ Dun, dadundun dundun dun _

_ A seven nation army couldn’t hold me back _

_ Dun, dadundun dundun dun _

The band had just gotten through the first verse when Peter dragged Tony to the back of the small crowd. He was right, it wasn’t much of a dancing song, but the kid still bobbed his head and bounced his foot in time, singing quietly along with the words. Tony found himself doing the same, he knew all the lyrics, they played it pretty frequently in the lab. No one seemed to even notice he was there, too, so he wasn’t actually having a bad time. He kind of enjoyed it.

A few more genuinely good songs later, and Peter was really getting into it. He’d gotten Tony to begrudgingly sing along to ‘pour some sugar on me’ and not so begrudgingly sing to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Some fun boppy tune he’d never heard of was fading out when the lead singer cleared his throat and waved for the crowd's attention.

“Alright, we’re gonna switch it up a little, you should all know how to do this dance, and if you don’t, well,” He chuckled, “It really ain’t that hard to figure out. Let’s go!” He stepped back, nodding to one of the guitarists, and a new song was playing through the speakers. It sounded a bit different, without the, well, whatever instrument it was originally done on, but Peter picked up on it pretty quickly. He turned to his mentor, unadulterated glee on his face as everyone else whooped and cheered, getting into lines as the first verse began.

_ Shuffle… Cupid Shuffle, _

Tony looked over at him in a mix of panic and general annoyance.

“No, Parker. I am  _ not _ doing the cupid shuffle.” He coughed, moving along with the crowd if only to avoid being trampled. 

“It’s not like it’s  _ hard.”  _ Peter whined back, falling into step with the music. 

“I never said I couldn’t do it, kid. I simply refuse to.” Tony retorted. He stepped out of the line, only for his traitorous protege to grab his bicep and yank him back in. Attempts to break from his grip were fruitless.

“Wha, Hey!” He snapped, as peter effortlessly pushed and pulled him through the steps beside him, nearly bowling a few people over during the do your own dance bit.

“Did you just stick to me?” Tony growled, as quietly as he could, knowing Peter could still hear. In response, Peter grinned and lifted his palm from Tony’s arm, but his fingers remained firmly planted.

“You’re doing the Cupid shuffle with me whether you like it or not,” he chirped, “and you’ll like it soon enough.”

After a few more steps, Tony gave in. It was a hell of a lot easier to just go with it than be dragged around. Once confident the man was not about to ditch him, Peter released him from his ‘freaky spider fingers’ and started to actually do his own thing. Honestly, Tony didn’t know he could dance at all. The kid spun, twisted, and bobbed to the song, flawlessly putting his own spin on the moves. Tony wondered exactly how much of this could be attributed to the spider bite, and how much was from hours of Peter practicing in his bedroom.

Other people were beginning to notice as well, making room for his exaggerated movements, a few even offering shouts of encouragement. Tony got a few weird looks, though, and figured it would be best if he stepped out. Right when he was starting to enjoy it, too. Standing on the sidelines did give him a better opportunity to see his protege in action, however, and he quietly slipped his sunglasses onto his face.

“FRIDAY, enable Camcorder protocol, please.” he mumbled, watching rather proudly as Peter popped and locked (is that what the kids are calling it these days?) like his life depended on it.

“ _ Of course, boss.”  _ She replied, as a small blinking light appeared in the corner of a lens, indicating recording in progress.

Far too soon, the song was over, and like it’s predecessors, was followed by a multitude of cheers from the partiers. The singer guy took a few deep breaths, waving over a few other members of his band. After a quick discussion, they collectively nodded and returned to their places. Some took out phones, seeming to look for something, before giving thumbs up to the lead singer.

“Okay, everybody having fun?” He called, eliciting more whoops from the crowd.

“After some careful consideration, we’ve added another song to the roster this evening,” some scattered cheers followed, “This one’s for that one kid who absolutely crushed the Cupid Shuffle, you better know this one too!” Peter’s face turned the same shade as his suit at this, even more so when a few people standing nearby clapped him on the shoulder or winked at him.

A few moments later, and the crowd had once again formed into lines, going through the hardly complex movements of the ‘Cha Cha Slide’. Peter was somehow in the center, dancing his heart out among the chaos. At first he looked beyond nervous, getting off-tempo to avoid knocking into anyone. Tony had half a mind to come up with an excuse to leave just to rescue him. But after a few moments, the kid really got into it, the tension melted away, and he really danced like no one was watching. The Cupid Shuffle was nothing compared to this.

People had stopped dancing, forming a cheering circle around the cha-chaing boy. _Pretty sure May never taught him to do_ _that_ , Tony thought as he rolled his hips, jumping forwards four times at the same time. It was really weird, and he was sure when Peter came down off this high he’d be horribly embarrassed by the quality footage FRIDAY was capturing.

But, maybe not as weird as when, in the middle of getting funky, the kid spun around, held out his hand, and yelled across the dance floor, “Come on Mister Stark!” with possibly the second biggest smile he’d seen that evening. The human wall parted where he pointed, and all eyes turned on him. Surprisingly, while a few guests looked properly flabbergasted, no one freaked out, and the majority just wanted to egg him on. He sighed, reaching a hand up to his glasses.

“FRIDAY, keep recording.” He ordered, setting her down on a nearby empty table. Rolling his eyes, he sauntered over to where his kid was currently bobbing his head, hand still outstretched. What was he gonna do, say no? He still had an image to keep, though.

Once in the center, the hole closed, and he batted Peter’s hand away playfully.

“I can do the Cha-Cha Slide, Kid.” He snarked, eyeing the two or three phones that were currently recording.

“Oh, can you?” Peter teased back, already getting into the rhythm and taking a step back. Tony fell into step beside him.

“I was both drunk and white in 2000, Peter, of course I can.” Peter cackled but didn’t respond, pumping his arms as he hopped forward twice. Tony followed suite, just slower and without the arm movements. He could do the Cha Cha Slide, of course, but not exactly on the same level as Peter. Still, he did his best to copy his precise movements, and after a few tries he was following pretty well. A bit less fluid, sure, and he couldn't do them all as well as the younger man, but he was at least on beat.

Every so often, another person would run out and join them for a bit, before running back into the crowd. Including, to Peter’s joy and Tony’s amusement, a very large, bearded man who grabbed Peter’s hands, spinning the two in a circle, before sliding the teen under his legs and rejoining the circle. 

In all honesty, Tony was having the time of his life. Mostly because the kid was, and he just radiated energy and fun. They were dancing together, in front of a crowd of strangers, and there wasn’t even any alcohol involved. Pepper could help him deal with any media fires later, when he wasn’t being schooled by a teenager.

Peter ended the last Cha-Cha by asking Tony to move away, and doing a perfectly executed backflip into a split. He’d get lectured on that later, but for now, he was basking in the excited yells and praise coming from all sides. His mentor ruffled his hair, his chest was heaving but he still grinned like an idiot.

“Nice job, Pete. Looked like you enjoyed yourself, how come you never mentioned your radical dance skills before?” He panted, shoving his hands into his pockets. Peter blushed again, nervously smiling up at him.

“Oh, uh, I used to take ballet, before everything with Ben,” He said sheepishly, “I was okay at it, but after the whole, y’know, bite thing, I got super good.” Tony nodded in understanding, it made sense. He was about to ask if he ever considered picking the classes back up when the microphone feedback squealed. Everyone groaned, and Peter violently flinched.

“That was as much of a show for us as it was you guys, apparently,” Band guy said, ”give it up for that dancing kid, and Tony Stark I guess?” Claps and cheers broke out, causing Peter to blush even more. Tony draped his arm loosely around the kid’s shoulders, flashing a peace sign. 

“Next up we have something a bit more mellow, I figured we should give ‘em a break.” A smattering of chuckles. Peter had not broken a single sweat, though to his credit he was at least trying to breathe heavily. A new melody washed over the group, a soft swing song, dispersing the larger gathering of people. A few came up to meekly ask for a photo with the billionaire, but soon the two were once again left mostly alone.

“You about ready to head out, Underoos?” Tony asked, glancing over at the table his glasses sat on. Still undisturbed.

“Yeah, sure Mister Stark. Can we still get dessert?” Peter asked, still swaying in time with the steady beat.

“Sure thing, kiddo, what do you think about gelato?”

“Yes! Do you think we can… wait.” Peter’s eyes flew open, and he looked around frantically. 

“What is it?” Tony asked, grabbing the teen’s shoulder.

“Something’s wrong.” Peter sputtered, spinning out Tony’s grip, eyes darting quickly around the room. The older man could see the hairs on his neck and hands standing on end.

“What’s wrong, Do you-” Tony was cut off by the sound of the glass doors swinging open, slamming into the walls. The song went off tune as the band stopped playing, leaving the dancers to look around for the source of the interruption.

The gasps followed by the unmistakable click of a shotgun were explanation enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting! I got a bit busy the last couple days ahah. As penance let me entertain you with some weird interactions I had this weekend.  
> Guy calling store: Hey are you guys doing anything for national ice cream day?  
> Me: it's national ice cream day?  
> Guy calling store: *sighs for like three seconds and hangs up*  
> Later that night  
> Me:Last night I had a dream Jim from The Office was chasing me because I couldn't remember his last name  
> Coworker: Is it because you think he's hotttttt? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> Me: I woke up crying, Jacob  
> Anyways, let me know what you think in the comments, smash like and subscribe, hit that bell button and hmu on instagram @murdock_schmurdock if you wanna chat or just see bad marvel posts


	4. It's About Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes trouble, and make it double!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the grand finale. which I definitely didn't write three months ago and have been sitting on ever since in an astonishing display of laziness.

“ALRIGHT, NO ONE MOVE A MUSCLE.” A raspy voice yelled, putting an end to the nervous murmurs.

“We don’t want no trouble,” the next voice was sweeter, and had a southern drawl to it, “But we’ll take some if we get it.”

“Panic at the disco.” Peter gasped, and Tony had half a mind to slap a hand over his mouth. He scanned the room, and, there! Right by their booth was a door, painted to match the old brick walls. They were still obscured by the crowd, but the window of opportunity was closing quick.

“We gotta go, kid.” He hissed into Peter’s ear.

“What? No!” The kid growled back, bristling at the suggestion, “We can’t just leave, w-we can’t just let these people get hurt!” 

“And I can’t let  _ you _ get hurt. You don’t have a say this time.” He grabbed Peter’s shoulders, steering him towards the door. Everything they left behind could be replaced, he just needed to get the kid out.

“Hey, where do ya think you’re goin?” The raspy voice shouted, freezing them in their tracks, “Turn around or I’ll blow ya brains out right here.”

Tony grimaced, keeping Peter behind him as he slowly turned to face the intruders. He quickly schooled his face into his bored expression, the last thing he wanted was for them to think he was panicking. Which he was, he just didn’t want them thinking that. Peter’s hand fisted into the back of his suit jacket, helped, just a bit, to ground him. 

The big one, who spoke first, he’d just call him Raspy, was holding two shotguns. His arms were massive, stretching the distressed denim vest he wore, and his shiny bald head had a small cut on it. That was probably from the lamp still swinging behind him.

The other man was not so big, and rather portly, and only carried one shotgun. He wore a similar denim jacket, but with sleeves, and what seemed to be a kevlar vest beneath it. One of his eyes squinted a bit, and his hair was cropped short. Tony decided to call him Jim-Bob.

Fear flashed over Raspy’s face when he recognized Stark, and he turned to Jim-Bob, who just looked smug.

“You think he’s got one a those suit things on ‘im?” He grumbled, shifting a bit in his combat boots. Jim-Bob looked him up and down, smiling with too many teeth when he seemed to find what he was looking for.

“Nah, he don’t. If he did he woulda already had it on ‘im,” Jim-Bob chuckles, “I dare say this here is our lucky day.”

_ Ah, so they’ve got the brains and the brawn shtick going on,  _ Tony thinks, desperately wishing he did have a suit. These dimwits would already be splattered on the wall if he did. Raspy still just looked stumped.

“Why would we be any more luckier?” He asked, glaring at Tony as if he was about to take off at any second.

“Because, brotha, we have one of the richest men in the world at gunpoint, without his primary defense system,” Jim-Bob smirked, “I think that may work out well for us.” 

“Oh, and what makes you think I’d just give in to the demands of Pinky and the Brain?” Tony shot back, weighing his options in his mind. On one hand, letting petty criminals get away with stuff like this was never a good idea, that’s being famous or rich 101. On the other, fighting them with only a single watch gauntlet would almost certainly end up with civilians getting hurt or killed. And Peter, that selfless idiot would either get his ass killed or outed trying to help. For now it seemed the ugly step sisters hadn’t even noticed him yet, and Tony intended to keep it that way. Welp, seemed like compliance was the way to go.

“Oh, I don’t think you will,” Jim-Bob replied, taking a step forward and looking at something just past Tony, “But I have leverage.” 

Tony felt a chill run down his spine at the man’s predatory gaze. Peter must have sensed his unease, as his fist clenched tighter into his jacket.

“Well hellooooo there,” Jim-Bob crooned, leaning in an attempt to see behind Tony, “I think you’ll fetch a pretty penny from Stark’s wallet.” 

He made a move to step forward, and in an instant Tony twisted, deftly pulling the gauntlet from his watch and over his hand. The repulsor whined and was charged and poised to fire before Jim-Bob put his foot down. They still had most of the dance floor between them, but there was no way Tony was taking any chances. Not with Peter.

Jim-Bob’s grin faltered. Which was understandable, considering he was now face to face with the business end of one of the world’s most powerful weapons.

“looks like you do have a few tricks up your sleeve, Stark,” Jim-Bob said, the smile returning to his face,”but it’s still two to one, or should I say, three.” Raspy cocked his other shotgun, looking nervously between his boss and the billionaire. 

Tony didn’t respond, he just glared at the duo. He could take em. Well, he had to now, there was no doubt in his mind that if he managed to escape or lost, they would take their obvious anger issues out on the rest of the restaurant’s patrons. He needed a plan, and he needed one fast. A swear escaped him as he glanced at his glasses still sitting abandoned on the table. FRIDAY would really come in handy right about now.

“Alright, you need ta make a decision right quick Stark,” Jim-Bob crooned, leveling the barrel of his gun at Tony’s chest,”cough up, or else you’ll be finding out exactly how many bodies one ah these babies can go through.” 

“Fine. Here.” He reached into his back pocket with his free hand, grabbing the leather wallet and tossing it into the middle of the dance floor, the gauntlet not wavering. A plan was forming in the back of his mind, it would be a close one, but if these guys were as dumb as they looked it just might work. 

Jim-Bob’s smile only grew at Tony’s apparent defeat, and he clapped his hands together joyously, though it sounded kind of odd with a gun in one hand. 

“Now that wasn’t any tougher than pie dough on a rainy day!” He exclaimed, “Why don’t the rest of y’all go ahead and turn ya valuables in as well?” It was more of a threat than a suggestion. Raspy went around plucking people’s wallets from their shaking hands. Tony stared Jim-Bob dead in the eyes, waiting for his next move. Finally he started to move towards the wallet, as soon as he bent down to grab it, he could-

He stopped mid-step, pursing his very chapped lips together as if pondering some great question.

“Also, considerin’ the situation, I’m gonna need some insurance. So I’ll be taking that there boy with me.”

Tony felt his heart skip a beat, and judging by the shaky inhale from behind him, Peter could too. This wasn’t a wrench thrown in the plan, this was a damn bulldozer. 

“Like hell you are.” He snarled.

“Like hell I am,” Jim-Bob nodded, idly picking at something on the gun’s handle,”obviously he’s somehow important or whatever to ya, and I can’t have you blasting me the second I turn around to leave.” Raspy voiced his agreement as he snatched an older woman’s purse from her shaking hands.

“But don’t you worry none. I’ll drop him outside the city or somethin, not a hair on his head out of place yadda ya,” his grin turned cruel,” unless he decides to put up a fight, that is.” 

He scooped up the wallet, looking expectantly at Tony. Tony was frozen in place, stuck between a rock and a Dwayne Johnson. He couldn’t let them take Peter. He’d rather go himself. Maybe that could work.

Before he could open his mouth to protest, the death grip on the back of his suit jacket relented, and Peter stepped in front of him. The kid was stoned faced, only his clenched fists gave away his illusion of stoicism. He was straight up terrified. 

“Kid, what the hell do you think you’re-“ 

“It’s okay, Mister Stark, I’ll go.” Peter cut him off, voice wavering the smallest bit.

“Oh no you don’t!” He reached to snatch his proteges sweatshirt but he twisted out of the way, standing directly in front of Jim-Bob. The barrel of the shotgun still pointed at Tony prevented him from leaping forwards and shoving Peter behind him again.

“What a brave young man,” the southerner said, clapping Peter on the shoulder. The kid straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“You know, most people who have daddy issues just get a therapist.” He spat back. Tony could just punch him right now. He was gonna get himself hurt, or killed, and then, well, then Tony wasn’t sure what he’d do.

Jim-Bob did not seem to appreciate this, but didn’t shoot the boy, so Tony considered it a win.

“Well you’ve gotta mouth on ya, that’s fer sure,” He grumbled, then patted his shoulder, “alright, Turbo seems to have gotten all the goods, anything ya gotta say to Stark before we get a move on?” Apparently there was a worse name than Raspy.

Peter turned his head back to his mentor, and Tony prepared to face his scared brown eyes and try his hardest to reassure him and let him know that damnit, he  _ would get him back _ . But when he turned, he gave Tony a small smile, and did that kid just  _ wink? _

“Don’t worry, Mister Stark, I’ll be fine.” The tremor in his voice was a stark contrast to the self-assured spark in his eyes, and Tony glanced down to see Peter’s fingers quickly tapping on the watch screen. He felt a momentary burst of pride fill his chest and had to bite back a laugh.

He was still terrified of what the kid was gonna do, of course, and what the consequences of his actions would be, but proud nonetheless.

Peter gave him one last look and turned back to Jim-Bob. The man began to turn him towards the door when Peter struck. 

In one fluid movement, he pulled the gauntlet over his hand, grabbed Jim-Bob's wrist and snapped it with a sickening crunch, and kicked the shotgun back and away towards Tony. 

“Agh, son of a bitch!” Jim-Bob screeched, struggling futilely against Peter’s arm. Not much he could really do though, with a mangled hand caught in a super-grip. Raspy- er, Turbo whipped around, whacking some poor businessman with the shotgun barrel and staring at his boss in horror. Peter stared back, grinning, with one arm around Jim-Bob’s neck in a choke hold as the other kept his gauntlet trained on his temple.

“Well, it looks liek you done got yerself in more of a pickle than a cucumber in vinegar!” Peter crowed in a very poor imitation of a southern accent.

“Jack! What’re I sposed to do?” Turbo whimpered, his shotguns looking a lot less intimidating as the man trembled in his combat boots.

“Hold on a second, I’m workin on it- yyaAARGGH” Jim-Bob-who-was-actually-Jack howled as the teen holding him shifted and jostled his hurt arm. At his cry of pain, Turbo wailed and charged, aiming his weapons at nothing in particular. 

“Peter! Look out!” Tony shouted, but the vigilante was already moving, shoving Jack away from the stampeding criminal and leaping away at the last second himself. Turbo whirled, ignoring his Boss sprawled across the floor, and set his sights on Peter, who returned his glare and leveled his gauntlet at the man. 

With a roar, Turbo charged him again, this time aiming a bit more carefully, the bullets ricocheting off the brick dangerously close to the teen. He only got three shots off before a well-timed blast from Tony’s repulsor sent him careening into an empty booth. The table collapsed under his weight, and Turbo settled on the remains of some barbeque chicken with a defeated groan, vest still smoldering slightly. 

_ A proper KO,  _ Tony thought to himself. One down, one to go. 

To his credit, Jack was pretty resilient. Despite his broken arm and impromptu stint as a human bowling ball the crook was crawling arm over arm towards his abandoned shotgun. Resilient, sure, but doomed to fail nonetheless as Peter was already on his tail. 

The kid kicked the firearm away and gestured at the man by his feet with the gauntlet.

“Are you gonna stand up and walk to the police, or am I gonna have to pull you out?” 

Jack responded with a growl, shakily pulling himself to his feet. As soon as Peter placed a hand on his shoulder he jerked, trying to pull a small pistol from a holster on his ankle. Just as quickly Peter socked him in the jaw, knocking him out cold. He stared at the unconscious criminal for a second before halfheartedly nudging his leg with a sneaker.

“Maybe I’ll just let them come get you, then.” He said sourly. 

The second he turned around he was smothered in an embrace. Peter sighed and leaned into his mentor’s arms, grateful for the familiar sound of his heartbeat.

“Hey Mister Stark.” He mumbled, barely registering the mechanical whirs and clicks as the man’s gauntlet disengaged and retreated into the watch.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony responded, “Are you alright? Anything injured?”

“No, no, not that I know of,but what about you?” 

Tony released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, moving his freed hand from the pulse point of the kid’s neck to card through his sweaty curls, which was pretty gross, actually. But he’d be damned if he’d stop. He'd take gross, sweaty hair over stiff, blood-matted hair any day.

“Yep, yeah, I’m all good.” He sighed, feeling his protege slump against him where they stood.

“That’s good.” Peter murmured, perilously close to falling asleep on the spot. Tony wished he could stand there with his kid forever, but the increasing number of cell phones being angled at them and the sounds of sirens approaching forced him to pull away. For a brief second Peter just fell forwards, but caught himself and stumbled, wide-eyed before glaring at Tony. 

“Not cool.” He grumbled, but the grin he was fighting back betrayed him.

“Uh-huh, just help me finish this up and you can sleep all you want in the car.”

Between the two of them, it didn’t take long to secure Turbo and Jack (using a self-hardening nanite spray in Tony’s gauntlet) return the stolen goods (using Peter’s exceptional people skills) and write a sizable check covering damages and payed for the meals of the victims (delivered to a positively traumatized hostess). 

“Alright, kid, we should probably skedaddle before we have to sit through police interviews,” Tony said as he gathered what was left of their dinner, glancing at the teenager dutifully attempting to keep his eyes open, “or before you pass out. Come on, up and at em.” 

He handed one bag to Peter and draped an arm around his shoulders, guiding the spiderling to the doors through rushed thank-yous and questions. As the adrenaline wore off he could feel the exhaustion creeping into his bones. it wasn’t all that physical of a fight for him, but the emotional toll of seeing his kid with a shotgun to his head left him feeling like he could sleep for decades. 

Of course, Peter was asleep the second he hit the Ferrari’s leather upholstery, and Tony gently clipped his seat belt into place with a chuckle. He stepped into the driver’s side and started the engine, rolling the roof into place and easing out onto the street to avoid disturbing his sleep. The radio crooned with a bluesy tune, and as Tony cruised through Queens towards the Parker’s apartment, he couldn’t help but think that maybe going slow from time to time wasn’t so bad after all.

“okay, Pete, up and at em.” He said softly, nudging the boy’s shoulder as he pulled up to the building. Peter responded with a drawn out yawn, and stretched out in a way that was borderline disturbing. Tony briefly wondered how the hell that could be comfortable, and made a mental note to figure out whether Peter’s joints had changed after the bite. He shook the thought away as he stepped out of the car, opening Peter’s door for him and guiding the sleepy kid to the doorway. He needed to get him to his bed before he actually passed out in the stairwell.

Dimly, he was aware of his cellphone having a seizure in his back pocket, which was to be expected after such an incident. He should probably let Pepper know he wasn’t dead, or gone rogue. Keeping one arm around Peter’s shoulders, Tony slipped the phone from his pocket and accepted the thirty-sixth call.

“Hey Pep, what’s up?” he said, wincing at the volume of his voice.

“Tony, oh my- are you alright? Is Peter?” His fiancee yelled back. Tony could practically see her wearing holes in the living room carpet.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, the kid’s alright, he’s dead tired though, so I’m walking him up to his apartment.”

“That’s good. I’m glad neither of you were hurt. Just make sure you get home soon, alright?” Pepper sighed.

“Soooo, you’re not mad at me?” Tony asked warily. Her answering bark of laughter was answer enough.

“Oh, Tony, I’m absolutely furious. But I am too tired to yell at you tonight, so it will have to wait until the PR meeting I just scheduled for tomorrow. 1 pm, if you’re late I’ll defenestrate you.”

“Jokes on you, I actually know what defenestrate means,” He retorted, “and I’ll be there.”

“Alright, well, be safe, and I love you.”

Tony smiled.

“Love you too, Pep.”

The brief pit stop in the stairwell had apparently woken Peter up enough for him to walk mostly by himself to the door of his apartment, but not enough for him to tolerate May’s fussing. After she had made sure he was completely unharmed and peppered him in a thousand kisses Peter broke away and trudged down the hall into his room, leaving Tony to his aunt’s interrogation.

May insisted he sit down for some tea (No, I am not giving you coffee at this hour) and give her a rundown of the night as she loaded the leftovers into the fridge. Tony had only gotten to the bit with the dance when his eyelids began to droop. Within a few minutes the Genius, Billionaire, Not So Much Of A Playboy, Philanthropist was out and snoring rather loudly on the Parker’s couch.

May draped a blanket over the sleeping man, smiling gently as she snapped a picture and sent it to Pepper. Surely she’d understand, and Peter would get quite a surprise in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally decided to crack back open the 'ol Ao3 a couple weeks ago, in the midst of some serious Blues and after I watched Age of Ultron again. Seriously, apart from FFH I've been avoiding Marvel stuff like the plague because Endgame Messed. Me. Up. and these characters are just so important to me that I simply have not been able to deal with it until I've hit this bit of a rough patch in my life. But we don't have time to unpack all of that.  
> I've also been reading a lot of stories on here, and man do I not feel good about my writing now haha, and I know the only way to get better and be more involved in this community is to write more, so here we are! Soon I'll get around to responding to comments but for now I'm just getting this chapter and the epilogue posted.   
> After that, I'm either gonna finish Peter's Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day or completely overhaul and redo the art and maybe story of That Awkward Moment When Your Whole Class Shows Up At Your House. that thing is my baby, and despite how much I love it I also very much hate it, lmao.  
> Anyways, gimme all your feedback in the comments, or even better, on my instagram! @murdock_schmurdock


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An aftermath, of sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not come up with a chapter title for this one, it's super short so I couldn't go with Epilongue, and another joke I had made no sense and I'm also pretty sure I've used it in a different story, so oh well.

Peter winced as the shrill ringing of the five minute warning for first block bell pierced his ears. Granted, it wasn’t as bad as some days, when he didn’t sleep enough beforehand or went without breakfast, but Mister Stark had insisted on getting him Starbucks before school. After he insisted on driving him in the same flashy Ferrari they took last night. 

Not that he was ungrateful, but if he hadn’t convinced the man to drop him off a block from the school instead of making a scene in the car line, he certainly wouldn’t be able to shake the questioning classmates. Midtown was a STEM school, after all, being driven to school by engineering legend Tony Stark (after the man had apparently spent the night at his house??) would make him the newest celebrity. For a little while, anyways. 

As he shoved the last of his books in his locker and slammed the door, Peter couldn’t help but notice a few sideways glances thrown his way, and many more he sensed drilling into the back of his head. There wasn’t any danger, but he felt the silent attention as his spidey sense buzzed in the base of his skull. 

Walking faster, he went over every move he made that morning. Did someone see him with Mister Stark? Did he accidentally wear the shirt he ripped last week on a fence post? Did Flash somehow manage to spread a rumor that actually stuck?

Peter’s heart was jumping in his chest when he finally ducked into his first class, flinching at the sudden noise of the first period bell. Ned urgently waved him over from their desks in the back, and Peter dumped his bag beside his and fell into the chair with a sigh. His friend immediately whipped out his phone.

“Dude, did you see the news today?” Ned hissed, glancing around the semi-empty room.

“No, no I didn’t, does it have something to do with why everyone was staring at me?” Peter replied. He figured the incident at the restaurant would make the news, but that was all about Tony. 

“You and Iron-Man basically saved like a dozen people yesterday. I’d think people would be pretty interested in that.”

A fist of panic clenched in Peter’s throat.

“Did someone figure out, you know?!” He said, grabbing the phone from Ned’s hands, who relinquished it with a “hey!” 

Peter stared stupidly at the Buzzfeed article. The other boy patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

“As I was gonna say, your side job is still safe and sound, but people are a little more interested in you.”

The teen groaned and sunk down in the chair until he could rest his forehead on the desk. Ned swiped the phone back and continued browsing the site, until a sharp reprimand from their homeroom teacher brought the two to attention.

This was gonna be a long day.

* * *

“Tony, this is easily one of the stupidest things you’ve done so far. I told you, repeatedly, to bring some security with you, or Happy at the very least, if you’re going to go out in public, and of course you didn’t listen! And look where we are!” Pepper fumed, stilettos clicking dangerously against the tiles as she paced in front of the board room table. Her fiance did not respond, nor did the rather grouchy head of security seated next to him, so she continued her discipline.

“I can’t keep putting out fires like this, our PR team is at the end of their rope after the last fiasco, and now we have pictures of you with a minor floating around the internet. Videos of you dancing together! You couldn’t have at least gone to one of the ‘no camera’ restaurants? Did you even think of that?” The Public Relation heads shifted nervously in their seats, tugging their collars and coughing gently into elbows. Pepper Potts was a woman to be feared, even when she was technically making their jobs easier.

“The picture that’s making the rounds has been forwarded to you, along with the article that came with it. If it was just this one, we could sue for unlawful use of the photo of a minor, but there are hundreds of these out there! And thanks to Buzzfeed’s so-called investigative journalism, they already have his name! I’ve talked to May already, and she knows Happy will be taking him home today, but we’ve sure got a hell of a lot more to discuss.” She whipped around, expecting to see her fiance trembling under her gaze like the rest of the rooms occupants.Tony was, instead, smiling at his phone. 

He was a little too busy making the photo of him embracing Peter in the aftermath of the fight, perfectly back lit by the fading daylight his home screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read this fic, especially those of you who gifted me kudos, or, God bless, commented. It really means a ton to me, and once again I apologize for straight up disappearing for three and a half months. my bad.  
> Keep an eye out for some new stuff, maybe, I'm not promising anything yet but I may have been working on a few things ;)  
> Let me know what you think in the comments, or better yet, hit me up on Instagram @murdock_schmurdock for art and marvel posts!

**Author's Note:**

> ooh, I wonder where they're going ?  
> No offence but I don't know any of the breeds of car, but I feel like Tony would 100% turn Peter into a car nerd/mini mechanic so I had to pretend  
> hmu on instagram @murdock_schmurdock, or just leave me some feedback in the comments!  
> have a wonderful day/night/other time period!


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